The Centaur’s pained breathing pulls me from troubled sleep. Ward is stretched beside me, his fur keeping me warm as I’m pressed between his body and that of the rapidly chilling Centaur.
“Dapples?” I ask softly and make my way on stiff limbs towards his head. He tries to recoil, but doesn’t have the strength, so I make a shushing noise and reach out a hand to gently stroke his arm. He panics harder at that, and it takes me a moment to realize why. I’m covered in dried blood. His blood. He must think me some kind of cruel, inhumane…
“Blood…” I mutter, pulling my hand back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean..”
“Don’t stop trying to help people.” The Fae’s voice rings in my ears like he’s here, telling me all over. I look at the Centaur’s side. The gaping wound still oozes blood, howe
